Scent of Gold
by TeeEye82
Summary: A character (me probably) has a conversation with Archer (Gilgamesh cough) and wine is had. Part of the Odorlorious collection.


**A/N: Transferred from AO3.**

 **For the most part this is something I worked on while half asleep and often after a few drinks. It's nothing huge, but it might be fun to turn into a full story if I fall into a sudden self-promoting frenzy.**

 **Gilgamesh might be pretty out of character but I blame the alcohol on my end. Opinions and commentary welcome, so please tell me what you think if you have something to add. Thanks a bunch.**

 **Disclaimer: I own not a thing except the effort it took to write this. And myself.**

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Bad days weren't an uncommon occurrence for her, though that's not to ignore that bad days weren't uncommon for anyone. Bad days, in fact, are an essential part of development, assisting in the direction of personal preference and emotional maturity. Her most recent bad day was nothing more than a misunderstanding between an adult and a child, ending in the unfortunate reclusive habit of a wounded animal. By the child, of course, since this adult has the seasoned graces of a duck; issues simply roll off his young lady sits now, practically pouting by the-

"I wasn't aware Tokiomi's little toy was a scribe."

The figure hunched over her notebook jumped, snapping her attention up to face the one who'd interrupted her writing. Next to her desk where she sat, lounging comfortably in her bed with a sly grin that only just hinted at mischevious, a man in simple garb and laced with traces of gold had appeared. The air still held wisps of the flakes he always entered or left physical form with, and the girl waved away a few that threatened to land on her papers before they vanished entirely. The girl's demeanor had returned to its initial agitated state before the intrusion, and her attention was back on her work.

A soft clicking sound came from the man, the kind that signifies disappointment, and he shifted to lie on his back, hands folded behind his smooth locks.

"It's not nice to ignore people, you know. Though I suppose children in this era aren't taught manners anymore."

The girl's fingers tightened around her pen, and her eyelids slid shut. After a moment, she swiveled her chair to face the one on her pillows and crossed her arms close to her chest.

"Is there something I can do for you, Archer?" Her tone was polite, but her expression was thin. Archer did not even glance over, instead seeming for all the world to be on the verge of a nap. His lips quirked ever so slightly into an amused grin, but relaxed quickly to his typical smirk.

"Now that you mention it, perhaps you could fill me in on your relationship with Tokiomi." One eye cracked open to pin her with a patient red gaze, though it was more knowing than his words let on. "I can't imagine there's so much as an iota of that man's genes in you."

Realising that he wasn't here for what she'd originally feared, the girl breathed a deep sigh and sank properly into her chair, defensive glare becoming something tired.

"It was a host program deal. But... I guess it became a little more permanent than anyone expected."

The lounging man turned his head to observe the other with his full gaze, crimson holding something more serious than their usual devious glint. The girl wasn't looking at him anymore, a note that mildly annoyed him as it wasn't often he extended this kind of opportunity, but he instead decided to let the girl speak on her own terms. He propped himself back up on his elbow and let his head tilt ever so slightly.

"So now, in exchange for asylum, you act as a mana pool for him." She nodded, fingers grabbing the armrests a little firmer. It was only for a moment, but the man grinned a little wider.

"But you believe you're stronger than Tokiomi wants to use you for. Maybe even..." The girl glanced up with the pause, only to shrink away with a startled inhale at the sudden proximity of Archer. One hand along the head of her chair, the other shoved casually in his pocket. His nose was a mere few inches from her own, vibrant irises searching hers for something she hoped she wasn't giving all too willingly. "...strong enough to be a Master."

The words were softer this time. Deliberate. Provoking. The girl held his gaze, and she wondered for how long she'd forgotten to breathe before her lungs remembered the necessity for oxygen.

"I don't need to be a Master." Her response was just as soft. Just as deliberate. The man watched her face for a few moments more before an amused sound of satisfaction left his throat and he pulled away, coming to rest on the edge of her sheets.

"Tell me what you're doing in that notebook." He motioned with one hand while the other summoned a simple crystal glass, perched elegantly atop his fingertips. The girl glanced nervously towards said notebook, reaching over to bring it closer to herself.

"W-why would you care about the silly things a girl does in her free time?" Her voice just barely kept itself above a tremble, and Archer produced a bottle of something dark and rich in colour and without a doubt all too high in alcohol content. His focus was on these articles in his hands, and not the way the girl eyed his common practice, but she had a feeling he was aware anyway.

"I wouldn't. However, I would be interested in the silly things you do while supposed to be supplying Tokiomi with mana. It's been almost two hours since you closed yourself off from him. His agitation is beginning to get on my nerves."

She had no response for that, and Archer lifted the glass now filled with the wine, swirling it gently, similar hued eyes sliding to the distracted expression on the girl across from him.

"I guess you could say... I'm writing what it might be like if I got what I wanted from this Holy Grail War." Her fingers tapped over the scrawled letters, voice softening to a kind of fond musing. Although there was a mild sadness to it, and the man with golden hair narrowed his gaze in something hostile, yet closer to disbelief than ill-will.

"Exploring dreams like that will only strengthen the delusions behind the fantasy." Lips brushed against crystal, and the blood-red drink disappeared behind them. "You'll only end up disappointing yourself when things don't turn out the way you envision them."

"Yeah," she breathed, and ended her response at that. His look of disappointment changed to curiosity, and then an unamused realisation.

"You have no hope that your wish will ever be granted by the Grail."

She snickered.

Archer raised an eyebrow, expression returned to that elegant air of self-satisfaction, leaning back against the wall as he took another sip of his wine. The girl looked more and more at peace as the conversation progressed, hands now just barely delicately resting along the edges of the notebook. Her eyes were somewhere else still, and the man continued to refuse to let this fact bother him.

"What are you laughing about? Enlighten me; even kings can enjoy jokes."

The girl got the impression he was calling her a joke, but ignored that conclusion in favour of returning her attention to him fully and shrugging lightly.

"It's not really that I have no hope. I just have no need for the Grail to grant what I want like that. I think you'd understand better if you knew my wish."

The man's comfortable smirk had returned, and he idly addressed his glass being empty by pouring himself another serving. Her eyes were drawn to the way he swirled the rich coloured liquid again, and this time he focused on her obvious distraction.

"I take it from the way you've acted thus far, you have no intention of revealing to me what it is you desire."

She shook her head, a pleasant smile glittering behind her lips. Wine swirled again.

"How about I make a deal with you; if I can guess your wish before the end of this War, I'll personally see to it that it is granted." It was the girl's turn to raise an eyebrow, and the man called Archer procured another glass, offering it to the girl before him. She took it hesitantly, but pulled it out of reach when he then moved to pour her a drink.

"His Highness will have to suffer my bluntness, but I don't think he knows what he's promising." Her eyes were hard, and the man noted her sudden acknowledgement of his legend. She was usually so detached from Servant affairs. He pinned her with a righteously amused look, tilting his head in a mightier-than-thou implication.

"The pet's toy will know her place, and learn to not doubt her Lord's abilities."

Accepting the impasse, however depreciating, the girl returned her crystal goblet within range of the bottle held almost lovingly by the man laced in gold, watching as he tipped its contents effortlessly into the cup. She brought it to just before her face while delicately wrapping her fingers around the stem, gaze following the gentle slosh and bob of the fluid within. Something about the deep, clear cerise was enchanting, to the point where she almost didn't want to drink it. Rather, keep its warmth somewhere close, and safe.

Archer's ever widening smirk broke her admiration, and she cast a momentary scowl in his direction while bringing the rim of the crystal to her lips.

"What," she asked flatly, voice echoing against the hollow of the glass before she let a taste of the wine wet her tongue. He cast his gaze off towards some point unseen, obviously entertained to some degree.

"Oh, nothing." He took a drink of his own, sliding his vibrant sights back to her with a sly hint of knowing. "I just couldn't help but wonder to what lengths some hopeless fools might go in order to get you to look at them the way you do that wine."

The girl returned the smirk the man across from her held, taking a larger mouthful of the liquid this time and gulping it down fast. If he was surprised, the outward evidence was fleeting, though a touch of disdain marked his nose and brow at such a disregard for proper appreciation.

"I think you should keep those thoughts to yourself, Archer. People might start wondering." She took another gulp, emptying the glass. When she offered it back, though, he simply poured her a refill. Having expected him to keep her from violating his precious libations any further, she eyed the liquid this time with mild reservation.

"I could care less about the mindless droning of proles. Their conclusions mean nothing to me." As he sipped his drink, his expression seemed to be waiting for her to repeat her last stunt. She grimaced weakly, the slight teetering in her head creeping up along her neck as she attempted to move her focus from him and back to her drink. She didn't drink very often. She wondered why she'd decided to now. Her mouth held less this time, and for longer, giving her a chance to really taste the quality. The man's patience seemed to have paid off, while he leisurely nursed his glass.

"I guess that's alright, then," she muttered into the wine, distracted. It was really good, actually. She kind of regretted slamming her first serving.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?"

It wasn't even a question as much as it was an accusation. The girl almost spit the contents of her mouth out all over both her bed and the man still lounging in it, a semi-shocked, mostly affronted expression pulling across her features quickly. Thankfully, she managed to choke it all down before speaking.

"That's? Yes? It's not like I'm completely innocent though- I mean, no one is but- Yeah... yeah. I am." Partway through, she realised she had no reason to be so flustered about it, and her rambling was only going to paint a bad picture. Her last few words were calmed, though she avoided Archer's amused face. Avoided that entire end of the room. Went to finishing off the last of her second glass. She realised her eyes felt kind of heavy, and her focus was even more skewed. Her head tilted from one side to the other, and she experienced a rolling, somewhat loose sensation in the base of her skull that spread up over her scalp and down her spine. By now, she was definitely regretting slamming that first glass.

Archer seemed for all the world to purely be enjoying the show, as he banished the now empty glass and bottle he held in a flurry of small golden flakes. The girl's attention was stolen immediately by the sparkling display, and she reached out to cup a few of the flecks in her palm. Some made contact with her skin. They felt warm and heavy, but soft. They faded out of existence soon after, and she all but pouted at their disappearance.

"You are a peculiar girl, I'll give you that much." He leaned forward, sharp eyes and voice seemingly unaffected by his own consumption of the alcohol. She mused that he had more experience drinking than she did, and it was entirely unfair that she'd been reduced to this state while he remained so collected. She carefully deposited her own empty glass that had yet to vanish on her desk.

"Thanks. You're a pretty peculiar gir- guy yourself," she hummed, also leaning forward to prop her arms up on her knees and cup her chin in her hands. Her eyes were feeling heavier by the minute; she could pass out if it weren't for the body occupying her bed. A fleeting thought to not care about that and sleep there anyway crossed her mind, but she was interrupted by the other's words before she could do anything with it.

"You are a terribly lightweight drinker." His expression still held that comfortable amusement. She was beginning to wonder if that was the only resting-face he knew. Maybe it wasn't amusement at all, come to think of it. Maybe it was something more sinister, like a predator eying wounded prey. That thought didn't sit well with her, so she decided it wasn't worth keeping.

"Practice makes perfect," was her mumbled response as she rubbed her face, trying to force the dreary pressure out. "Also you should give me back my bed."

"Most women would give anything for a chance to share a night with their King."

The girl made a tense, groaning sound as she slid off the chair to come to a kneel by the aforementioned bed, one side of her face planted firmly into the sheets while her hands rested haphazardly along the edge. Thankfully enough, the man had situated himself criss-cross applesauce, so she didn't end up between his knees like she suddenly feared she would have in any other orientation.

"Most Kings have better things to do than keep my bed from me." Her words weren't slurred, but they did feel a little thicker coming off the tongue. A low chuckle sounded from above, and she rolled her upward-facing eye towards the blonde man. He seemed to find no end of mirth in the current situation. Her breath was forced out in a stiff huff and she buried her face in the sheets at the look he was giving her.

"Is there anything about you that isn't gold?" Her voice was now considerably more muffled. She felt him shift and then the mattress swelled where his weight left it.

"Why do you ask?" His voice was behind her, and she jumped with a squeaked sound of startle that popped from her throat when she was lifted from the floor by Archer and deposited somewhat unceremoniously into the bed. Her head swam with the sudden movement, and she felt like her limbs were just a touch longer and heavier than they should have been. In an attempt to get away from these unsavory sensations, she pulled the sheets around her closer to her body and huddled against the pillow, eyes screwed shut and breathing shallow. Ohh, but wait...

That smell.

She giggled weakly, muscles relaxing and head feeling a little less like gelatin. "Your mana even smells like gold," she mumbled from under the fabrics around her, and an inquisitive hum was voiced by the man that had traded places with her.

"My mana? Of all people I should know that scent the best, however I've never personally come to that conclusion myself. Describe it to me." She could almost hear the casual boredom in his tone, but the giddy serenity that filled the girl's senses left her uncaring towards whether her company was invested in her musings.

"It's like turmeric and yellow-rice and olive oil. Sort of warm like a fresh meal and aromatic like... almonds and cherry seeds." She heard his movement as he shifted, and turned over to see what he was up to. But he was just standing there, hands in his pockets and leaning a little heavier along one half of his frame, gazing at her with a peculiar sort of familiarity.

"Mahaleb, then? Interesting." And she believed that this time it really was interesting to him. She was going to ask what mahaleb was when he lifted his head to look towards something unseen and scowled, managing to keep the ugly expression handsome somehow, and slid a less than pleased regarding back her way.

"It would seem that this little encounter has come to a conclusion." The upset face became amused again, and she huffed into the pillow at him, maybe a little disappointed. Maybe a little pleased he'd come to see her. Maybe just tired and relieved he was finally leaving.

"Is your Master calling you?" As if she had to ask.

"It would seem so. I look forward to the next time, little toy scribe. Remember our deal." As he began to dissipate into those gold flecks, he lifted a hand, the girl's notebook clutched neatly between lithe fingertips. His grin was daring as she yelled and lunged for him, arms swinging through the shining dust as he vanished with a hearty chuckle.

"That's not even fair," she hissed, sinking back into her bed and glowering at the ceiling. She supposed it wasn't really all that bad that Archer had taken her notebook; it would be hard to figure out what the stories in it signified without context,she believed. Everything seemed to be swaying in a single direction after the sudden motion earlier, blood behind her eyes swirling like wine in a glass, and she hoped to anyone that might hear her that she wouldn't have a hangover in the morning.

As she lay there in the silence and solitude, though, mind wandering from one foggy thought to the next, she begrudgingly allowed the link between herself and her surrogate father to be opened, letting out a deep exhale at the familiar trickle of power running her circuits. She recalled the intensive conversations she'd had with Mr. Tohsaka when the agreements were first being made. All the legal subclauses and special conditions. The sacrifices made for the better roads. That train of thought made her head hurt, and she let it fizzle out as she drew her covers over herself and settled into the soft warmth of her bed.

Bad days weren't an uncommon occurrence for her, though that's not to ignore that bad days weren't uncommon for anyone. Bad days, in fact, are an essential part of development, assisting in the direction of personal preference and emotional maturity. Her most recent bad day was nothing more than a misunderstanding between an adult and a child, ending in the unfortunate reclusive habit of a wounded animal. By the child, of course, since this adult has the seasoned graces of a duck; issues simply roll off his feathers. The young lady lies peacefully in her room, breath heavy and eyes shuttered against the open air. She will dream well tonight, with the mix of alcohol and intoxicating lingering of golden mana lacing her sheets.

In the morning, she might even notice the glass still resting on her desk before she leaves to freshen up for the day.


End file.
